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Deliverance

The desire to survive,
in a landscape strewn
with rocks and weeds,
grows weaker and weaker
with each waning moon,
every time less able
to revive what little light
I might still dream of.
Thus, the tiger that follows me
to the edge of the night
looks like a friend,
eyes gleaming with promise,
teeth as soft as deliverance.
Written by Mundus
Published
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